Patience for the Returned
by Muscarie
Summary: Have patience, patience for the Returned For they forgot what they've returned to, But not what they've returned from. Thranduil has been hearing these words from Lady Galadriel for some time now, without knowing who they refer to. One dawn, he follows them to the river, where he finds his lost wife, returned. Except she remembers nothing at all, and least of all him.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, so, I know, this is silly, no one ever wanted this crossover, but hey, maybe I'll just leave it at the prologue and call it a day.**

 **Anyways.**

 **I own neither of these universes and no characters, and I'm not making any profit. I just woke up one day and thought, what if Ellie turned out to be Thranduil's wife? Then realised it was what no one else wanted to know, but wrote it anyway. I'm really selling it, aren't I?**

 **Forget everything I've just said.**

"Thranduil"

Her voice rings in his very core, shaking him from sleep.

Galadriel.

"Have patience for the Returned, for they forgot what they've returned to, but not what they've returned from."

It is not the first time she gives him this message, but her voice is sounding more urgent each time. Pressing. Insisting. Feverish. At first, the Elven King believes it is about Legolas, recently returned from battle, is his mind forever scarred by what he's seen? As the Lady of Light's messages return, again and again, more and more, louder and louder, Thranduil understands it is not about his son, though he knows not who else it could possibly be about.

Tauriel?

Her grief has shattered her, and he fears for her welfare. Did she truly love the Dwarf, to the point of not returning from his death? He sits with her, listens when she wishes to speak, remains silent when there is nothing to say. Legolas takes over when he leaves. Tauriel has faded a bit, she who used to be the brightest colour in the forest. Her lips are pale, her hair is darkened. There is no longer the same grace to her step. Yet, she lives, and if her eyes stare into nothing they still see, life is not completely drained from her. She may yet return from this.

"Have patience, patience for the Returned." Says Galadriel.

He is nothing if not patient with Tauriel. Why would the Lady of Lorien feel the need to want him so?

"They forgot what they've returned to." This does not apply to Tauriel, nor does it apply to Legolas.

"Not what they've returned from."

He questions her, but only her repeated warnings come. So, Thranduil shows patience, and he waits, waits for the Returned.

"Thranduil!"

The voice shouts him awake, desperate, panicked, and the Elven King sits up in his bed, his breathing harsh and laboured.

"The Returned!" Presses Galadriel.

Thranduil stands, puts on his robe and grabs a sword.

"The Returned!" Begs Galadriel, "she is returned!"

The words are tangled in his head, almost too loud to allow him to walk. He paces down the corridor, a hand on the wall to steady himself, and he stops only when he reaches his son's chambers.

"Legolas" he calls, quietly, for he knows his son is not likely to be asleep.

Legolas wakes just before dawn, just like his mother used to.

The door open and the Prince steps out.

"Take your bow," commands the King. "Take your bow and follow me."

"The river, Thranduil, she is returned!" Calls Galadriel, so loud it makes him flinch.

The two elves leave, ignoring the guards' puzzled looks as they pass by, and they walk into the woods, their pace fast and assured. Thranduil leads the way, two fingers pressed to his temple in an effort to numb the pain Galadriel's warnings are causing him.

"The river" she says, and everything is tangling into a nearly inaudible flow, "the returned, it is she, the returned, have patience!"

These last two words are whispered and shouted, they plead and they command, they beg and they scold and they stop only when he reaches the water.

The river is black, and calm, and vicious. There is not a sound to be heard.

Thranduil looks at the dark waters, as still as a mirror. He sees nothing. Patience.

"Father?" Questions Legolas. When he fails to get a response, the Prince insists: "I have heard her warnings too."

Thranduil is surprised. Shouldn't a son share this kind of information with his father? His only remaining family?

"I have heard the Lady Galadriel's warnings too. I believed them to be about Tauriel."

"So did I."

They stand still for a few moments, but the woods are dark and still and the river is unchanged. The warnings have stopped.

Thranduil shakes his head, makes to turn around.

It is but a flash, something pale and dead, in the water, it appears briefly out the corner of his eye, but he sees it. One look at the water, and he sees it. The Returned. Thranduil takes a step closer, and he sees her.

A pale face, grey as death, purple lips, the great mane of hair he's admired so.

His knees betray him, and his body shakes as he falls, holding out his arms to retrieve his beloved from the poisonous waters.

"Sîrriel!" The cry escapes him, and it is the most emotion he has expressed in a long time. His hands break the black mirror and grasp at the dead Queen, and he pulls her to him, she is cold and still and he cries and calls her name. The shock is so great that Thranduil fails to hear Galadriel as the Lady of Light begs him once more, her tone apologetic:

"Thranduil, have patience, patience for the Returned, for they forgot what they've returned to, but not what they returned from."


	2. Chapter 2

**Still not owning a thing from either universe, and not making any profit.**

 **Also I'm publishing more.**

 **Sorry :)**

When Ellie wakes, it's not the strike of cold panic that comes with not remembering where you are that makes her jump out of bed and fall gracelessly to the floor, but the hands around hers, and another one on her forehead. Without mentioning the very old man standing by. She jerks, dives out of the bed and discovers that her legs have decided not to work just yet. What you have to understand, is that the last thing Ellie remembers before this bed and these strangers is turning around, seeing the horde, and making the decision to jump into the water, to her death. She was out of ammo, out of stamina, out of luck, and she preferred drowning to being eaten alive. With a bit of luck, the impact with the ice cold water a hundred meters below would knock her out, and the drowning bit would just be a commodity. So she jumped, and when she hit the water her eyes closed and now they've opened again and here she is.

Crawling, Ellie gets perhaps a couple of steps away before she is caught, arms enclosing around her body. She's anticipated that though, and she rolls around to kick her assailant in the face. Her legs agree with her for a little bit and she gets up, stumbling, holding on to whatever she finds and holding her empty hand out towards the three men. They keep their distance, and Ellie gets a proper look at them.

Two of them are blond, tall, pale. They look very much alike, and their hair is straight and ridiculously long and well kept. The other one is very tall, very old, very grey, and wears shaggy grey robes. Ellie keeps her hand out at them, despite it being empty of its trusty gun. They are staring back at her, weary, careful, the one she kicked had deep red blood reaching for his lips but seems unbothered. Ellie risks a look around. A bed, soft and comfortable. Soft, warm light. Wide open windows opening onto a green forest. Water by the bed, and a sponge. She can feel the drops of cool water on her forehead, soothing.

"Sîriel," says the old man in grey, and he starts talking, but the words are gibberish. She can still understand the tone, though, and the tone says not to worry, that they aren't here to harm her. Perhaps she hasn't drowned, and they found her in the river?

Ellie shakes her head. "I don't understand you." She tells him.

But the old man keeps talking, and talking, calmly, and the strangest thing occurs: the words start making sense, or Ellie starts hearing them right, or they lull her in, she isn't sure, but she now understands what he says, and when she opens her mouth to ask what language that is the words formed by her lips are foreign yet familiar, new and old.

"We are speaking Sindar," answers the old man. "Your language."

"Right."

This is mad. These guys look wrong. They look illuminated, lit from the inside. The older man looks more normal, apart from his insane beard and outfit. This is a cult. A flipping cult.

"Right." Repeats Ellie, straightening up, lowering her hand. "Where are my clothes?"

They all frown.

"On your back, my Lady." Replies the older man.

The other two exchange a look.

"My normal clothes." Specifies Ellie. She's wearing some sort of silky, greenish sleeping gown. She tries not to let the fact that they've clearly undressed her get to her.

"The clothes you were found in were wet, my Lady. I am afraid they were disposed of."

"Ok. Right." Ellie nods. "That makes sense." They're standing between her and the door, but the windows to her right are not, in fact, open, they simply have no glass. Good. She could jump onto a tree and run. Where the hell are they? And who the hell are these blond guys? Hippies?

"How do you feel, my Lady?" Asks the old man, and Ellie recognises that he's asked the question before, and that she now understands it.

"Better. Thank you. I'll be going now."

"Sîrriel!" The taller of the blond men calls out, and is stopped by the older man as he tries to walk to her. He's wiped the blood off his nose, the smudged red a sharp contrast on his pale skin. He's looking at her like they've met before, like she should know who the hell he is.

"Ellie." She corrects him. The robes make her trip and she picks them up. She looks out onto the gigantic forest out there. Where are they? "I'm going to need some shoes, please?" She tells them.

"It is not safe. You must stay here." Says the other blond man.

"I'm perfectly capable of travelling on my own, trust me, I-" she's got one leg hooked over the window sill.

The old man whispers something and Ellie is asleep before she hits the floor.

"She said her name was Ellie." Says Legolas, as he and Thranduil watch over the long lost queen, returned. She has awoken again, and is in the gardens. She looks scared, but defiant, and she stares at everything and everyone in both awe and hostility. Gandalf is speaking to her.

"She is Elven," continues the prince, "yet she seems so..."

"Human." Finishes Thranduil.

Everything in Sîrriel's behaviour suggests human upbringing. She is impatient, open, hungry, vocal, acts before she thinks, speaks her mind at all times. He'd always been charmed by her honesty and passion, but this goes beyond his queen's natural character: this is mortality. Yet here she is, returned, definitely Elven, from the pointed tip of her ears to the light that shines within, she is one of them.

"Father, are you sure it is her? She said her name was Ellie."

"It is her."

"She has no recollection of us, or Mithrandir, or Mirkwood. She attacked you."

"Do you think I would not recognise my queen, Legolas? The mother of my child? The companion of a thousand years?"

"Forgive me. I, on the other hand, have no memory to compare her to."

There is the slightest bite to his voice, but Thranduil chooses to ignore it.

"Is it true?"

The two of them turn around as Tauriel approaches. It pains Legolas to see her like is, her hair dull and disshevelled, her skin pale, yet this is the first time she has spoken and moved in a while.

"Is this her?"

"Tauriel, this is your queen. Sîrriel."

"My mother." Adds Legolas.

"She has returned from the dead!" It is in equal parts a question and an affirmation, and at this Legolas remains quiet.

"No... Body was ever found to bury." Reluctantly replies Thranduil.

Years, decades,searching. Each painful minute embedded in his memory, eating away at his heart until there was nothing left. Live for the child, that's what she would have wanted of you.

"Perhaps she had not been killed after all."

"Would she have been kept prisoner? Perhaps her mind broke, and this is why she does not know us?"

"She does not know you?" Asks Tauriel.

"She believes her name is Ellie. She believes herself to be human."

"May I meet her?"

The request is so unexpected that both Legolas and Thranduil do not know how to meet it. Legolas looks at his father, a silent plea in his eyes. Tauriel has never seemed so lively.

"Very well." Agrees the King.

Tauriel makes her way down to the gardens, passing the guards who throw her a surprised look. She was their captain, and they had not seen her since the battle of the five armies.

At her approach, Sîrriel stiffens, then relaxes, perhaps because Tauriel's tortured appearance is more similar to that of a human. The two elves see Tauriel extend her hand, greeting Sîrriel as a human would. After a while, Mithrandir leaves the clearing and joins them.

"What have you learned?" Eagerly presses Legolas.

"She... She is your queen, Thranduil, there is no doubt of that. But she has... Forgotten."

"Has she returned from the dead?"

Thranduil is silent.

"No, I do not believe she has. I believe she was never dead. I believe your queen was sent away, quite accidentally so, and has spent some time in another world. She... Remembers that world, she remembers growing up there and fighting for survival. She was human there, her name was Ellie, and her world was overrun by some sort of disease which has turned men into violent monsters that eat human flesh. There are no elves or dwarves or wizards or even orcs in her past world. She showed me her arm, there is a bite mark on there, from human teeth. She tells me that normally bites turn other humans into infected ones, but for some reason she showed resistance to the disease and has not turned."

"Probably because she is not human." Says Thranduil, harshly, trying to erase from his mind the image of his love being bitten by some crazed monster.

"Yes... She thought we were keeping her here because of her immunity. I believe it has attracted her unwanted attention before."

"Have you explained the truth to her?"

"I- tried. Your mother, Legolas, must have died or nearly so here, then was born again in that world, and had no recollection of this one. Now that she is returned, after another near death experience in that other world, she remembers her life there but not her life here, and I cannot explain why. Thranduil, what were Lady Galadriel' s exact words to you?"

"Have patience for the Returned, for they forgot what they've returned to, but not what they've returned from."

"Patience. Wise words." The old Istar nods thoughtfully, before looking around for something.

Thranduil almost smiles. Mortals. He gestures towards the food he has had set up on a nearby table, and Mithrandir goes to it.

"What will you do, Adar?" Enquires Legolas, and all of a sudden he sounds like an elfling again, unsure, asking for his father's opinion.

"Speak to her." Replies Thranduil, and he tries hard not to let the nerves get the better of him.

As he approaches them, Thranduil sees that Sîrriel notices him, and he sees her square her shoulders and hold her head high, ready to defend her life. To think that there was a time when she'd run to him, and melt into his arms, the shift in her attitude towards him is crushing. The distrust in her eyes angers and saddens him all at once.

Patience.

He stops a few steps away and bows lightly. He tries to think of what may soften a human Sîrriel.

"Sîrriel." He says, keeping his voice as unthreatening as possible. "I trust you have had a restful sleep. I have arranged for some foo-"

She's moved extremely fast, shoving him with all her strength. He stumbles back.

"What have you done to my face?!"

She grabs his collar, pulls him down to her, shouting.

"What have you done to my face!?"

The sudden nearness is intoxicating. The pale green eyes, the light freckles, the full, pink lips. His love, returned. He cannot answer her, he is lost. He stares into her eyes, follows the curve of her lips, he knows resistance is futile. How many nights has he dreamed of her, how many nights...! His arms move of their own accord and soon he is embracing her, and she fights, but he cannot let go, because he's missed her for so long and he's been deprived of her for so long and now she is returned to him and he cannot let go.

He does let go.

When her knee crashes against his crotch, he does let go.


End file.
